A Hunter's Butterfly
by xXToxicValentineXx
Summary: Reagan Shayfer is barely 19 when she becomes responsible for her 16 year old orphaned cousin, Kayla. Reagan is anything but guardianship material. When she can't afford to pay rent, where will her and Kayla live? Reagan's boss, April, offers to let them stay at her place for four months while she's away on business. What happens when Reagan takes the offer?
1. Prologue

**Authors note: Okay, so most important. This chapter is my story character talking, not me. It's her beliefs, not mine. Please don't be offended by what I said, you'll understand when you read it what I am talking about. My beliefs aren't the same as hers.. Second, I'm not entirely positive where I'm going with this story yet, I have ideas. So bare with me. I have a hard time staying motivated with a story, so please review to let me know what you think and to keep me motivated. I accept insults and criticism, so go ahead and post them. I won't be offended. I take insults as compliments c:**

Death. That's my greatest fear. Not really the dying part its self, but mainly the part that happens afterwards. What's so frightening about it, is that no one knows what happens. If anything happens. A lot of people believe there's a heaven and a loving God waiting for us when we die, some believe we become part of the earth, as a tree, or an ant. But what if there's nothing? What if when we die, it just all goes black, and then nothing.

That's my biggest fear, to die and there be nothing. I'd honestly rather go to the Christians hell and burn for all eternity. It sounds crazy, but at least it's something. We, people, are forever plagued with the unknown, and oblivion. Some of us try to avoid it, and it never ends well for those people.

Take Allen Pogner as an example. Hardly anyone knows about him. In the early 1970's, he developed a serum that could keep the body from growing old or getting sick. Well, at least it was supposed to. He gave the serum to himself, eager to avoid death. What happened is he ended up being allergic to a chemical in his own formula, so he died of an allergic reaction.

The point is, no one can avoid death. It's impossible. We're just animals who are born to reproduce, raise our young, and die so the cycle can repeat. It's actually kind of sick when you think about it. If there is a God, and I'm not saying there's not, he's a sick bastard. Good people die every day, and then psychopathic murders and rapists live to see one hundred. No offense to any Christians out there, you have your opinion and I have mine.

Death is inevitable, and that's really the only thing we know about death. It's probably all we ever will know. You can't document what happens to someone after they die, like where their spirit goes or if they just fade into oblivion. I personally don't want to know. Kind of like when you eat Chinese food, you're not entirely sure of what you're eating, but you don't really care what it is as long as no one tells you.

I never wanted to die, and I always had nightmares of it. Sometimes it's all I could think about, was how much I didn't want to die.

But that all changed on April 3rd, 2004.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was 8:17 in the morning when I heard that knock on the door. I groaned, silently cursing whoever decided it would be a great idea to come see me so damn early. It was one of my only days off, and I'd worked to well after midnight last night closing the shop for April. She had some "family emergency" to tend to. I'd asked her if Casey was okay, but she mumbled something about brothers before apologizing before she left, promising to pay me double for having to close on short notice.  
As you might assume, I was completely exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and sleep until noon. I laid in bed for a few more minutes, hoping that whoever they would, they'd go away and leave me to sleep in peace. When a much louder and more persistent knock sounded through my apartment, I angrily threw the covers from my body and jumped out of bed.  
I wore nothing but a pair of dark purple boxers and a black tank top. My dark brown hair was up in a messy bun, and there was leftover makeup smeared down my face. I didn't even bother to get fixed up, because I personally didn't care what they thought. It was eight in the morning on my day off, and I hadn't slept well all night. Hell, they're the one who knocked on my door early in the morning. What did they expect, a gorgeous blonde with makeup on perfectly and in a pink, flowing night gown and in pink fuzzy slippers yawning cutely?  
Apparently they did, because when I opened the door and saw a women in a grey business suit holding a black briefcase, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of me. I narrowed my eyes, sending her a nasty glare.  
"You're the one who knocked on my door at 8am, sister. Don't expect a beauty show." My voice was hoarse, and I knew I probably looked worse than I thought. I stood in the doorway with crossed arms, waiting for her response. I expected a smart retort, or a shy apology. I got neither.

"May I come in?" She asked politely. This caught me off guard, so I awkwardly moved to the side and gestured to the living room with my hand.

"Uh, sure." I wasn't sure how to respond to her, so I just let her in. She looked like a lady here for a reason, and I don't think I really had a choice. She probably only asked to be polite.

She walked in the living room and looked around. The first thing she noticed was my 46 inch TV on the dresser, and the torn up green cotton couch. She nodded slowly and sat down, placing her briefcase on the coffee table in front of her. She nervously rubbed her hands together, then looked up at me with small brown eyes, a shade darker than her skin.

"Would you like to sit down?" She asked. I shook my head.

"I like standing, thank you." She sighed.

"You're going to want to sit for this, trust me."

I suddenly got a odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whether it was the look on her face or the soft tone in her voice when she said it, I don't know. All I knew was that something bad had happened. I stared at her for a moment before slowly walking over and sitting down in the leather chair across from her.

"Alright, what's this about?" I asked irritably in an attempt to cover my growing anxiety. She looked away from me and reached for her briefcase, undoing the lock and opening the lid. She shuffled the papers around, mumbling inaudible things to herself. She finally pulled out a small stapled packet and placed it on the table in front of us. I glanced down and tried to read the top of the paper, but the words were too small and far away. She looked into my eyes. 

"You see, Reegan, there's been an accident."

"It's Reagan," I corrected. Then I blinked in confusion as I realized what else she had said. I looked at her as my heart almost stopped.

"An accident? What do you mean, an accident? What kind of accident?"

She folded her hands together and looked at the floor, before looking back up at me. I noticed the wrinkles in her face, she looked at least sixty. She'd been doing this a long time, and for some reason, that irritated me.

"Your uncle Roy and his wife Tammy."

My biggest fears come true. My last living relatives.

"Are they okay?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. She wouldn't be here if they were. She gently shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, Reagan. They were in a car crash yesterday morning. A truck smashed into their SUV, causing it to flip from a bridge."

I wanted to throw up as the image played in my head. Roy was my favorite uncle, and he'd been my father's only sibling. I looked away from her, not wanting her to see my now forming tears. I then felt a soft hand placed on my knee.

"They died instantly, there was no suffering."

I nodded slowly, and I was beginning to shake. I turned back to her.

"Thank you for coming to tell me," I whispered.

"That's not all I'm here to tell you."

I swallowed my spit, which felt thicker now more than ever as the stinging in my throat intensified.

"There's the matter of your cousin, Kayla," she said as she picked up the small packet.

I had almost forgotten about Kayla. "Was she in the wreck, too?" I asked. The lady shook her head.

"No, thankfully. She was at home during the tragedy."

I sighed in relief. At least she was okay. Then a thought hit me. If she's technically my last living relative, doesn't that make it possible that I could be hers?

"There's the matter of where she will live. She's too young to be living on her own, but too old to go to an orphanage."

I stared at her, not liking where this conversation was going.  
"What does that have to do with me?" I asked.

She paused. "Well, you're the only family of hers that we can locate or contact."

My mouth nearly dropped in disbelief. This lady had come here today to tell me to look after her. I shook my head violently.

"No."

She stared in shock at me, her bottom lip dropping. "E-Excuse me?" She stuttered. I looked her dead in the eyes.

"Me and Kayla never got along. That's why I've refused to see her for seven years. It wouldn't work her living here. And besides that, I only have one small paying job. I don't think I could care for us both."

The lady slowly shook her head. "Ms. Shayfer, please.."

"No, she can go to her a friends or something."

She paused. "Mikayla doesn't have any friends, Ms. Shayfer."

I chuckled. "That's impossible. She was always the popular one with a bunch of friends. I was the one without any friends."

For a second, I swear that old woman glared at me.

"Mam, I can assure you Mikayla does not have any friends. She didn't even have anyone to call to talk to about what happened. Her phone contact list only had two numbers, her mom and dad."

I frowned. What could have happened to make her loose all her friends? Maybe they saw the spoiled brat she really was inside and got sick of it. I stood up and looked down at the lady on my couch.

"She'll find someone, now please, leave. I worked late last night and didn't sleep well." I turned away from her, heading for the door and opening it. She shot to her feet, closing her brief case and walking quickly to me.

"Ms. Shayfer, please, you're all she has left! And she's all you have left. It might be best for both of you if.."  
I threw my hand in the air and cut her off.

"Let me explain something to you. I don't need you to tell me what's best for me, and what I have left. It's none of your business and she is not my responsibility. I won't ask you to leave nicely again."

She gave me a sad look, almost like I'd hurt her personally.

"You know," she began as I fought back an irritated moan. "When we told her she'd need to find somewhere to live, and we said your name, it was the first and only thing that made her eyes light up since the accident."

She shook her head sadly at me, then began to walk past me. Something stirred inside me as I watched her leave. I turned to face her leaving form. The words left my mouth before I could think.

"So she really has no where else to go?" It was only a whisper, but she heard it loud an clearly. She spun around and nodded.

"No, she doens't. You're all she has left."

A pain shot on the inside of my chest as I looked into her dark eyes. Thoughts shot though my mind, and I knew how it would end. I saved myself the headache from over thinking and just cut to the point.

"Fine, she can stay with me." I swear that old woman nearly jumped out of her suit.

"Excellent!"

I rolled my eyes, still feeling the burning from lack of sleep.

"Where is she right now?" I asked.

She looked down at her watch, eyes widening.

"Well, she should be arriving at the New York City airport in about.. thirty minutes."

My eyes widened. "Thirty minutes?! What if I had refused?"

She gave me a big, toothy grin. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she said, "I knew you wouldn't." 


End file.
